Blaze the Night
by lugenewalters
Summary: AU: Guys like James like guys like Carlos. And guys like Carlos like guys like James. They come from different worlds...can those worlds turn together? Carlos/James. Rated M for language - for now.
1. Guys Like You

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** All right, here goes that second preview I promised you guys. This is going to be a Jarlos story, so it's definitely something new to me as far as writing BTR slash is concerned, but I'm excited. This one and "Expressing My Love" will be continued starting in June, and they'll be written together! I hope you guys enjoy the first chapter!

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><p><strong>BLAZE THE NIGHT<strong>

**- 1 -**

**Guys Like You  
><strong>

"So, you think your mom will notice that the cake is missing?"

"Notice? Please. She probably has the entire police department out looking for it."

James and Kerry giggled infectiously as they both scarfed down pieces of German chocolate cake and washed it down with a bottle of vodka. For James, though, this was so much more than just eating cake. It was devouring all of the stupid things he hated about his life. The expectations. The unwritten rules. The goals and dreams that had been cherry-picked for him ever since he was a kid.

_Fuck that_, he thought, and he stuffed another piece into his mouth.

James Diamond, the 19-year-old son of cosmetics empress Brooke Diamond, and his best friend in the whole world, Kerry Miller, sat on the floor of his darkened living room. His living room. Six months previously, James had convinced his mother to let him move out of the big house and into the guest house on the other side of the pool. Best decision of his life.

"You think she'll check in here?" Kerry asked. She reached over and pulled the curtains back just a little to see across to the main house, where a birthday party was being held.

"Of course not! And risk showing all her rich and perfect friends that her son isn't as rich and perfect as their sons? Not a chance."

"True that," Kerry replied. "Never mind the fact that you've fucked quite a few of those rich and perfect sons."

"True that. Maybe you and I should get naked so that if she does come here, she'll think we were having sex. That should make up for stealing the cake, right?"

They giggled again, and Kerry casually rest her hand on his crotch. This was totally the type of thing that only a pair of friends like them could do. Whatever would be awkward for others would be perfectly fine for them.

"So," Kerry began, finishing the vodka bottle, "how old is ol' Cam-Cam turning, anyway?"

"Cameron is 27 years old today," James sighed, rolling his eyes. "But he doesn't look a day over 25."

"Jeez!" Kerry marveled. "Brooke Diamond gets older, her boyfriends keep getting younger."

"Heh."

"Please, tell me you've 'accidentally' walked in on him in the shower at least once. I have to know how big his dick is."

A sneaky, suspicious smile formed on James's face as he stared into the space between them. "At least eight inches. Uncut."

Kerry was nearly speechless. "Damn. Some bitches have all the luck."

"Tell me about it."

They sat quietly for a while, letting the sounds of _Talk That Talk_ envelope them and get into their pulses. This seemed to be becoming the norm for them. Junk food, booze, and music in the darkness as they moped about what they thought were depressing lives. The thought was enough to make them even more depressed, so the cycle would just continue.

"I'm gonna miss this," Kerry said somberly.

"Miss what?" James asked.

"This! You."

James shook his head. "I'm going to college, Kerry. I'm not dying."

"You might as well be dying!" Kerry exclaimed. They'd had this conversation a billion times already, but she'd never truly gotten over it. "You're going to UCLA, way on the other side of town, and you'll get new friends and you'll do new things and you'll never have time for me. That's always how it happens."

"I won't forget about you, Kerry, jeez! How could I ever forget about my best friend?"

"I don't know," she replied, looking down and trying to believe him. "Just promise me you won't change, okay?"

"You know I won't."

They got silent again. The thought of going off to university to be some kind of college guy was almost enough to make James sick. He'd managed to convince his mother to let him take a year off after graduating from high school, but he knew he couldn't keep pushing his luck. Brooke Diamond had plans, and many of those plans revolved around her one and only child.

"I don't even want to fuckin' go," he whined. "I don't want to run a fuckin' cosmetics company. I don't want to be a lawyer or a doctor or a teacher or anything...I just want to be young and hot for the rest of my life." He threw his head back onto the sofa behind him and closed his eyes.

Kerry nodded in sympathy. "And rich."

"No!" James shot back seriously. "Not that word."

"Oh, please, Diamond Jim."

"Don't call me that!" he yelled. "And don't call me rich."

"But look around, jackass! You are!"

The guest house was studded with the finest of furniture, and its walls wore the finest of paint. The entire place was elegant, and it screamed "rich," but that word was possibly the dirtiest word a person could ever call James Diamond. It conjured up images of himself wearing one of those cashmere sweaters with his hair slicked back, voting Republican and showing up at the front door to ask fathers if he could take their daughters out on dates. The kind of guy who was really a creep underneath all of the fakeness, but no one noticed or cared because as long as he pretended to be a gentleman in front of everyone, it was okay.

"Don't call me that," James repeated, this time pleading more than demanding.

"Oh, all right," Kerry gave in, giving his arm a slight jab. "You're not a rich kid at all. You're just a high maintenance pretty boy who likes to wear expensive clothes."

"I can deal with that."

"Right. And I'll miss you."

James just shook his head again. "Sure."

Rihanna started crooning about how we all want love as Kerry stood up and began to dance around like a ghost. James's eyes slowly went from her to the window, where he could still see the party going on. That so wasn't him...that scene, that atmosphere. He wanted nothing to do with it, but it seemed to be his destiny, and he didn't know how to get away from it all.

"I'm gonna prove everybody wrong one day," he vowed aloud. "I'm not gonna end up like some of these guys. Married to someone I hate, fucking the pool boy on the side and paying him an assload of money to keep quiet, going to a job I hate...snorting crack off the bathroom floor every night. That's not gonna be me."

"And how will you change that, Diamond Jim?"

"I don't know. I do not know."

Kerry stopped dancing behind him and eyed the back of his head as he drooped down. He was so sad, and she wanted to do anything she could do to cheer him up. She fell down on her knees behind him and put her arms on his shoulders. "Let's go get some pot," she whispered.

For a split second, James was totally going to protest, but then something in him told him to go for it. "Yes," he said, the smile returning to his face. "Yes, let's do that."

"Yes!" Kerry screamed. "I know a guy who sells it in Pomegranate Point."

"Pomegranate Point?" James asked as he got up to his feet. "Wasn't there like...a double-murder or something there a few weeks ago?"

"Yeah. So?"

"I'm not going to Pomegranate Point!"

"Oh come on, James! Quit being a pussy!"

"I'm not being a pussy," he said, taking their cake plates to the kitchen sink. "I just like living. Besides, it's like an hour away!"

Kerry's bubble was burst. She knew she'd never go by herself, and she really, really wanted to smoke, so her happiness for the night depended on whether or not she could get her best friend to man up. "If you don't come with me, you might as well go back in there with your rich mother and her rich boyfriend and their rich friends, rich boy!"

James dropped the plates into the sink and looked at her with a devious eye. "Oh, you bitch," he said. "You bitch. You wanna go get some pot from Pomegranate Point? Let's go get some pot from Pomegranate Point."

"Yes!"

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><p>"Why am I not surprised that you don't know where you're going?" James asked, his arm resting on the door as Kerry's Pontiac G6 crept through the streets of one of LA's worst neighborhoods. "My prettiness doesn't do well in areas like this."<p>

"Hush," she replied, trying to navigate the maze-like streets. "I can put your ass out on the corner right now and sell you for a thousand bucks a blowjob, so please, keep on bitching if you dare."

"Well, if we don't find this dude's house in ten minutes, I want to go back home," James announced. Honestly, a bag of subpar pot was really not worth this much trouble, and he was getting sleepy.

They turned down a dark street, and James was immediately confronted with things he didn't want to see. There was a gang of teenagers scraping the sidewalk with their feet, and even a hooker, but they weren't the problem for him. No, it was the rows of worn-down houses and beat-up cars in the driveways. As much as James wanted to believe that the "rich" society life was not where he belonged, any time he had to see how the other half lived, all he wanted to do was run back home to his gated community, lock himself in his fancy guest house, turn up his massive stereo system, climb into his bed, get under his Egyptian cotton sheets, and fall asleep. He hated that part of himself.

"I think he lives a few houses down, so we're almost there," Kerry assured him. When he didn't answer, she turned to him and once again caught that glimpse of sad James that always had a way of reminding her that she did indeed have a heart. She reached over to rub his shoulder. "It's gonna be all right, Jamie," she said, but just as he turned to smile at her...

BANG!

Kerry's car smashed into the back of another car, shaking both she and James up, but neither one was hurt. Kerry shook a little pain out of her head. "What the fuck!" she yelled, punching the steering wheel.

"You smashed into that car!" James yelled. "Do you think they're all right?"

"I don't know, but I'm about to give this bitch or bastard a nice kick in the vag or balls," Kerry steamed as she threw open her door. "_He_ backed into _me_."

"Kerry, no!" James yelled. "You don't know what kind of person that is!"

He wanted to just go back home and forget about the whole thing, but Kerry was already out the car and walking to the other one, a 90s-era Camry with chipped paint and some missing hubcaps.

"Hey, dumbass!" Kerry called out when she reached the driver's side door. She began to bang on the window until the driver got out.

"Kerry!" James warned. He was now behind her. He was prepared to protect her, but not ready to die, so he kept his distance.

"Who are you calling a dumbass, you skank?" the other driver yelled as he got out. "Watch where the hell you're driving, and maybe you won't wreck into people's shit!"

"Me wreck into you?" Kerry asked in disbelief. "You backed into me!"

The other driver seemed tired and weary, but his temper seemed to be escalating. He cast a glance at James, who immediately turned away in embarrassment.

"I have a lawyer, you little twerp. Even if it is my fault, we'll find a way to make it yours," Kerry told him.

"Oh, really?" the other driver replied, his dark Latin eyes getting darker.

"Yeah, so the best thing for you to do is to get in that hunk of junk you got there and start haulin' it away."

The other driver suddenly looked helpless. Maybe he knew all too well how a situation like this would turn out. White girl in a fancy car in a bad neighborhood up against a Latino guy. The police would never believe that it was her fault.

He turned to James. "You were in the car with her! It was her fault, wasn't it?"

"Umm..." James responded, not sure what to say. Damn right it was Kerry's fault. She'd turned her eyes away from the road to comfort him, so clearly she hadn't been paying attention to where she was going. But she was his best friend, and he couldn't just side with this random guy.

"Look..." he began, trying to come up with the best solution for everyone. "Um...look, we can forget about the whole thing if you just sell us some pot. You get something, and we get something, and it's over with."

The other driver's eyes went extremely wide, and then he became extremely angry. "Great! Just great! You rich white people are all the same! You think just because I'm Latino, I must sell drugs! Look at this fucking car! Do you think this is the type of car a drug dealer drives? Screw you, rich boy! Screw both of you!"

"Oh, honey, we're not racist," Kerry told him condescendingly. "Classist? Yes. But never racist."

"I don't care," the other driver replied. "I don't care. You get what you want. You drive like a maniac because you're out scanning for drugs, and you crash into my car, but you win. There you go."

He began to get back into his car, but James pleaded for him to listen. "No, listen! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed you were a-"

But the door slammed, and the engine revved up. The crusty little car drove off, the back bumper a breath away from falling off.

"You know he had the damn drugs," Kerry said as she and James went back to her car. "He just didn't want to sell us any because I smashed up his little Piece-of-Shit-mobile."

"Shut up, Kerry," James scolded, not wanting to hear anymore of her mess.

"And now you want to go home."

"Yes."

They got into the car and slammed their doors. Kerry turned the engine on and they whizzed down to the end of the street and were back on the highway in no time. The ride home was quiet except for Britney singing about a criminal, Beyonce doing her countdown, Adele setting fire to the rain, and some random boy band swearing up and down that the music sounds better with whoever happened to be listening to the radio at that moment.

The whole time, James was feeling conflicted. Was this really going to be his life? Sneaking off to do "bad" things, using his inherited money and power to escape the consequences, and then running home to his big, comfortable house, where he got whatever he wanted? As long as he kept up the pretense that he was a good, decent kid around his mom's friends, everything would be fine. But that was exactly the type of guy he never wanted to become.

He thought about the poor guy they'd crashed into. Probably a nice guy, a good kid...probably a hard worker who was just a victim of circumstance. And to make matters worse, he now had to deal with a busted bumper. James felt like shit for assuming he was a drug dealer, and he wished he could just go back and apologize, just make it clear that he wasn't one of "those" people, that he wasn't judgmental and that he was NOT a rich boy.

Kerry could easily get the hint that James was not in the mood for any more fun tonight, so she dropped him off with an apologetic look on her face. He gave her a smile to let her know that everything would be fine, and she left. The party was winding down just enough for his mother to pop into the guest house once James was all settled in.

"James Diamond, where in the hell have you been?" she asked in a hushed tone, as if any decibel louder would have been akin to playing their conversation on a speaker for everyone to hear.

James was just about to get into bed, but he tiredly slumped down on the edge to listen to whatever she had to say. "We went out for something to eat."

"Oh, and the cake you stole wasn't enough?" she asked him vindictively. "You better be lucky Cameron is so charming that we were able to convince everyone that there wasn't a cake because he didn't want one."

"Cameron is so charming," James mocked. "So, so charming. Just like Michael was, and Aaron, and Donovan, and Kevin, and all the rest."

Brooke raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what in the hell has been getting into you lately, but you better start thinking about making some changes. Once you're off to UCLA, I don't know if I'm going to care about what you do anymore."

"Please don't."

Brooke, left with nothing else to say, just shot him a death stare and left.

James crawled into his bed and hid under the sheets, just like he knew he would on this night. He felt disgusting. Here he was, a total screw-up, a total mess, a spoiled rich kid with no sense of responsibility at all, with no direction in his life, lying in this big bed, surrounded by all the things he'd ever wanted. While that poor guy in the bad neighborhood was probably struggling to sleep on a hard mattress in a hot room in a tiny house with not so much as two nickels to rub together.

_No one so pretty should have to live like that_, James thought to himself as he turned over and drifted off to sleep.

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><p>James had no idea why he was doing it or what he intended to prove or gain or whatever. He just knew he had to do it.<p>

His car slowly crept along Southfork Street, one of the main residential streets in Pomegranate Point. It was one o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, and it was screaming hot, so there was no reason for anyone to be outside, but still, James was terrified of ending up in the middle of any kind of gang fire or, really, he was just scared of being seen.

His hand was ready to throw the car into reverse and turn around at any minute, but he committed himself to doing this once he saw what he was looking for. The poor guy - damn, he needed to know the guy's name, if only to stop referring to him in his head as "the poor guy" - was outside in his driveway, washing his car, broken bumper and all. Part of James wanted to turn and go back home, but part of him needed to do this, and that part was bigger, so he pulled up on the side of the road next to the poor guy's house and turned his car off.

James sat for a second, observing the poor guy as he scrubbed the passenger's side door with a soapy sponge. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of mesh trunks and flip flops. His tan skin was flawless, utterly and completely without blemish, and the muscles it encased were smooth and modest, but impressive just the same. His dark hair was wet, and it was clear that he'd probably soaked himself with the hose before getting started with the car. His shorts fit him very snugly, and the shape of his firm, round bottom was unmistakable under the fabric.

James shook himself out of his fixation.

_Just apologize, offer to pay whatever it costs to fix the car, and leave_, he told himself.

He got out of the car and began to approach the poor guy, who didn't seem to hear him coming.

"Hey," James called to him, but the poor guy never responded. He just kept scrubbing the side of the car.

"Hey!" James called again, raising his voice a little, but still, no answer. "I know you hear me!" There was no music playing, and all the guy was doing was rubbing the side of the car. No excuses for why he wasn't answering.

"Okay, whatever," James said, getting pissed. "I just wanted to come back and apologize for last night, but whatever. You're an asshole, so goodbye."

Just as he started to leave, the poor guy got up from the ground. "I didn't think you'd care about a drug dealer's feelings."

"Dude," James shot back, turning to face him. "I just said I apologize, okay? You're not a drug dealer, and I'm stupid for assuming you were, okay? And if you need help to get the car fixed, I'll help you."

It was all James could do to not stare directly at the poor guy's pecs and his little brown nipples. He knew how things were in neighborhoods like this, with guys like this. If his eyes lingered for just one extra second, he could find himself being stuffed in a trunk and left to die.

The guy eyed James's car. Yep, the stereotypical rich boy car, a Dodge Charger. He eyed James, who was wearing a vintage tank top, cut off denim shorts, Ray Band sunglasses, and several wristbands. Typical. Just plain typical.

"I don't need your help," the poor guy finally answered, full of pride. He waited a beat, then he added, "But I accept your apology." Even though he couldn't see James's eyes behind the shades, he smiled, hoping to God that James would smile in return.

For a split second, James didn't know what to do, but he couldn't stop himself from smiling, too. "Good," he said, and he could feel a little flutter in his stomach.

"I'm Carlos," the guy said, extending his soapy hand for a shake.

"James."

"Nice to meet you, James," Carlos said sincerely. "Most guys like you, when they come through here, just get what they want and then they leave."

"Yeah, well I'm not like most guys."

"I can tell."

They stood in an awkward silence for a second. James just couldn't keep his eyes off of Carlos's incredibly hot body, but he had to try, and he had to remember his sole purpose for even being here in the first place.

"Look, why don't you just let me take care of the bumper for you?" James offered again. "It won't cost much, I'm sure, and it was my friend's fault."

"I said I can handle it," Carlos reiterated.

James nodded.

"But at least you can finally admit that it was her fault and not mine."

"Uh yeah," James said. "Sorry about that."

"It's no problem."

Awkwardness. James was ready to get back into his Orange County comfort zone, but at the same time, he couldn't shake the feeling that he should stick around for a few minutes, if only to make his offer once more.

Carlos was impressed and truly amused that this rich boy had come all the way into the hood just to apologize, and maybe he would have invited this rich boy to hang around for a while, just to sit and talk and cool off in the hot summer sun, but he knew how rich boys were, and he wasn't interested in anyone's pity.

"I don't want to keep you," he said, motioning to James's car. "If you have somewhere you need to be..."

"Oh," James let out, Carlos's words breaking into his admiration. "Uh...yeah. Bye," he said as he began to walk back to his car. Of course, he had nowhere in particular to be and nothing special to do, and he didn't really want this to end so abruptly. Maybe he and this Carlos guy could have gotten to know each other better. Maybe they could have been friends. Maybe, right? But James knew how guys from the hood were, and he knew that their worlds were way too different for them to be friends.

"Bye," Carlos called after him. He prepared to get back to washing his car, but just as James turned away from him, he called out, "Don't be a stranger."

"Huh?"

"There aren't a lot of people who would have done what you did today. Not a lot of guys like you. I want to keep you around."

James was surprised by Carlos's kind words, and he sorta chuckled and smiled at the same time. "Thanks," he said. "Uh...hopefully I'll see you around."

And as he got back into his car and started the engine, even though he was more than ready to high tail it back to the glitzy world of fame and fortune that he both hated and loved, he knew that he'd taken something with him from this visit, and that something was going to grow.

Meanwhile, as Carlos scrubbed and rubbed and made his car look as decent as he could, he couldn't keep the grin off of his face. That guy had come back for him, just to apologize...that guy had probably thought about him all throughout the night...and that guy was too sweet and adorable for words.

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><p><strong>NOTE:<strong> Be sure to let me know what you think in the reviews! Your thoughts may affect the story. As far as "Fragments" is concerned, I hope to get back to that one very soon. As I've whined and whined about for the last few months, this semester has been EXTREMELY demanding, and I really don't have any free time left over for writing. It's starting to wind down, though, so hopefully I'll have more time. Thanks to everyone who reads my stuff! You guys are the best!


	2. A Guest in the Guest House

**A/N:** Okay, I didn't want to post this. This is basically a short little part that was going to be just the beginning of Chapter 2. The only problem is...well, I got hit by an epic case of writer's block. I swear to you, I've written the rest of this chapter at least five different ways, and I'm not satisfied with any of them just yet. The writer's block even spread to my other story, Expressing My Love, so it's been a really frustrating week of writing. Anyhow, I DID manage to write this before my skills went to crap, so I hope you enjoy it. It's really not much, and it might even seem random, but I promise it's gonna mean something in the long run. Thanks, guys!

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><p><strong>BLAZE THE NIGHT<br>CHAPTER TWO  
>A GUEST IN THE GUEST HOUSE<br>**

Look for James Diamond on a Saturday afternoon, and you'd most likely find him covered in sweat, his hair stuck to his forehead, and his heartbeat racing like he was in the Tour de France. His feet were moving, and his arms were flailing. His eyes opened and closed in rhythm, and his hips gyrated like a maniac.

He was dancing.

Shortly after returning from Pomegranate Point, James had turned up his stereo (with surround sound speakers, of course) and gotten into some sweats, and he danced his ass off. This was probably his most favorite hobby in the entire world. He'd close all the blinds and curtains so that it was nice and dark, and it would be just him and the music. There was nothing in between to kill the mood as he moved to the beat of every feeling conveyed in every song. Britney, Rihanna, Beyonce...Kylie, Gaga, Kesha...even old favorites like Donna Summer, may she rest in peace. These women gave him life every Saturday, and he didn't know what he would have done without them.

He had to take a break every now and then, though, because as much as he loved to jump around to the music, he also liked living, and a heart attack would not have been a cute way to die. He turned the tunes down a little so that he could hear himself think, and he went to the refrigerator for a water. He leaned against the counter and drank slowly, letting the cool, refreshing liquid work its way down his throat and into his body.

As he drank, he reflected on the events of the day so far. He was proud of himself for what he'd done, driving to the hood and offering to pay off that guy's car repairs. Even if he had refused to accept, James had still made the offer, and he gave himself a mental pat on the back. No ordinary "rich boy" would have done that.

He thought about the guy's parting request. Don't be a stranger. Ha. Would they ever even breathe the same air again? Not likely.

Just as James finished the last of his water, he was startled by a knock on the door.

_Here it goes_, he thought to himself, knowing exactly who was knocking and what the purpose of the visit was.

Sure enough, it was Cameron, his mother's boyfriend.

"Hey there, tiger," the newly 27-year-old greeted in the most obvious way. He stood shirtless with a pair of mesh shorts and running shoes on. He was just as sweaty as James, but his enormous pecs glistened.

"Hello, Tits," James replied. James had been calling him that since the first time he'd seen that chest.

"Nothing much," Cameron answered. "I just got in a really good workout. Is that Britney I hear?" He tried to peek inside the house.

James didn't even answer. He just stepped out of the way and let him on in.

Even though Cameron was a fresh twenty-seven with a young, taut body, he could have very well passed for forty. He lived a serious life, always shut up in his "writing room" trying to churn out the next great romance novel. Brooke constantly had him on her arm at parties and banquets, and it left little time for Mr. Cameron Stewart to cut loose and act wild. But he definitely got to have a little fun every once and a while courtesy of the added bonus that came with being Brooke Diamond's boyfriend - Brooke Diamond's son.

"I was looking for you at the party last night," he said, grabbing his own water from the fridge. "I should have known better than to expect you there, though."

"Yeah, it really wasn't my type of shindig" James said. He checked his phone on the coffee table. A missed call from Kerry. He put it down without even thinking about calling her back. She deserved to suffer for a while.

"It wasn't your cake, either," Cameron pointed out, "but you ate it anyway."

"Yeah, well, I do what I want," James said rebelliously. He went to the stereo and turned it up a little bit, hoping to drown out Cameron's awkward attempts at conversation.

Cameron stared hard at James as he moved around the room, picking up odds and ends and doing some general tidying. Every time James bent over to pick something up, Cameron's cock got harder.

"Your mother's gone 'til morning," Cameron called out over the music.

"So?" James asked as he bent over again, this time for no reason at all. He loved the rush he got from teasing men.

When James came into the kitchen to toss the trash away, Cameron cornered him, easing up right behind him and whispering in his ear. "We can be as loud as we want, and no one's gonna hear us." He put the water on the counter and had both his hands tracing the shape of James's torso.

James snickered, turning around in the small space to face him. "You're a mess. You're twenty-seven, you're dating a woman who's thirty-nine, and you're having sex with her nineteen-year-old son. You can't find anyone your own age?"

"No one my age can ride my dick the way you do," Cameron said in a totally serious voice. He grabbed James's ass and squeezed hard, putting his wet lips on James's face. "And you know I wouldn't dare do anything with Brooke. 'Real love waits,' and 'I'm saving myself,' and all of that BS."

"You really don't have anything left to save," James smirked.

"I got something saved for you."

And for a second, James would have totally done it. He would have escorted his mother's boyfriend to his bed and let him inside, no condom. He would have screamed his name and all of the dirty words men like Cameron liked to hear, and he would have laid there as Cameron emptied inside him. Cameron would have pulled his shorts up and left him there, too, while James felt pathetic and stupid and horrible and weird. They'd done it numerous times before. But today, he just didn't feel like it.

"I'm not in the mood," he said, pushing past Cameron.

"Not in the mood?" Cameron asked, dismayed. "Tiger, I'm in enough of a mood for the both of us!" He pulled the waistband of his shorts down, and his truly impressive meat flopped out. "Come on. Why don't you come suck on my birthday cock? I'll let you lick the icing off."

"Do you want me to get Delores to take care of it for you?" James asked in the most deliciously dismissive tone. Delores was the maid. Delores was also 72 years old.

Cameron put his dick away and followed in awe as James went back into the living room and turned the music off. "You're serious, aren't you?"

"That's right," James said. He opened the blinds and curtains to let the sunshine in. "I'm not giving you head today, Cameron. I don't feel like it, and, plus, you're too sweaty."

"So are you! And you know how it is. The wetter, the better, tiger."

A scowl came across James's face, and he made sure Cameron saw it. "I'm tired."

Cameron scoffed. "Right. You're tired. Tired from _what_? You don't do shit! You sit around here all day, drinking and watching those awful teen dramas on DVD. The only time you do any real work is when I'm ramming you from behind."

"Oh," James rolled his eyes, "but if it's work, then I guess you're not doing it right, huh?"

Cameron rolled his eyes right back. "I saw you leave earlier. Where'd you go?'

"None of your business."

James turned on the TV and, partly to piss Cameron off, put in a disc from the second season of _Dawson's Creek_. He plopped down on the sofa.

"Probably went to go get fucked by some confused high school football player," Cameron said as he stood pouting at the door.

"That's your fantasy, not mine," James retorted as he curled up into a comfortable ball on the sofa.

A flicker of hope went through Cameron's head. Maybe, just maybe, if he cuddled up next to James on that sofa, he could have gotten his dick wet, but instead, he threw his hands up in the air. "Whatever. I'm done. You're nothing but a spoiled little bastard. When your mother finally kicks you out of her life, you're gonna go from old man to old man, letting each one plow you in exchange for money and booze. You're going to be a whore."

"Don't worry. I'll always look back at you as my very first old man."

Cameron was extremely sensitive about his advancing age. "Fuck you," he spat, and he went for the door, slamming it hard on the way out.

After Cameron left, James snuggled up with himself as the DVD began to play. He really couldn't stand that jerk. Sure, his dick was huge. Sure, he knew how to fuck. But wasn't there more to life than just great sex?

And to make it worse, now that Cameron had brought it up, James was again thinking about Carlos. What a cute little brown boy. Yes, he lived in a bad part of town. Yes, he was probably poor. Yes, he probably had horrible taste in music and fashion and all of the things that mattered.

_But I betcha he could make me happy. Truly happy._

But alas, straight boys from the hood don't date gay boys from the hills, and so James wallowed in his misery as Dawson's theme song began to play. His phone rang, though, and he reached for it, already knowing who it was.

"He finally answers," Kerry announced rather loudly on the other end. "Where have you been all morning?"

"None of your damn business!" he yelled back at her, though he was more upset with the fact that people kept asking him that than he was with her. "I mean...girl, I was not trying to answer the phone this morning. I was sleeping."

"Oh," Kerry replied. She tread lightly, because she knew a mad James Diamond was a vicious James Diamond. "Well...are we cool?"

He sighed. He kept sighing, but he kept coming into contact with such sigh-able people. No, he wasn't mad at her, but he kinda hated how easily he could forgive her. The cycle would just keep going on and on. "Yeah, we're cool," he finally said with a smile.

"Look," she continued, "I'm sorry, okay? I know that you didn't want to go, and I know that it was awkward dealing with that random guy, and I know that I almost got us killed, and I know that you hate being called rich, and I know...eh...I just know, okay? I know that I get to you sometimes."

James felt bad. "You don't get to me, Kerry."

"Yeah! I do! But I swear I'm gonna start changing, okay? It's a promise."

"Ew, no, don't do that. If you change, then I might have to forget all about you when I go to UCLA!"

"Oh, you asshole!" she laughed.

Now that things were back to normal between the two of them, Kerry felt free to go on and on about how she hated her stepmother and little half-siblings. She complained about her new neighbors, and she bitched and moaned about being on "the freaking rag." James listened and provided all the appropriate "Mhm"s and "Yeah"s, but he'd heard it all before, and nothing was new.

_Nothing in my life is new_, he realized. _It's the same old shit on a different day._

And since it was Saturday, he knew what Kerry was going to talk about next.

"So...you feel like doing Indian Treasure?" she asked in a small voice. "It's been a while..."

Indian Treasure was a gay bar, one of the trashiest places on the face of the earth, and Kerry loved it. She was a fag hag, plain and simple, and being surrounded by gay boys who bought her drinks and obsessed over her boobs was heaven. Oh yes, every weekend, a gaggle of gays would descend upon Indian Treasure with their skinny jeans, button-downs, and boots. Everyone was looking for some action and really didn't care who they got it from as long as he was cute, skinny, and could dance.

James hated it.

"Yeah, I guess," he said. He wished he could just chill in his house all day and night, watching Dawson and the gang, but he knew Cameron would be a constant pest, and he wasn't sure how long he would have been able to abstain from rolling around in bed with him. "Yeah, we can go," he answered again.

"Good," Kerry oozed. "We couldn't find you some pot last night, but we'll at least get you a cute little boytoy tonight! We can go shopping before, too, to find you a cute little outfit to get your cute little boytoy with!"

James just chuckled at her enthusiasm and listened as she went on and on about something else that made her life suck. First world problems, indeed.


	3. Treasure Hunt

**A/N:** All right, here's the part of this story that initially brought me to a miserable writer's block. Proud to say I finally got "it" back and was able to write this. Not the greatest thing I've ever written, but it's closer to what I wanted than what I had originally written for this chapter. But whatever! Thanks to everyone who's had nice things to say about this story! Hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>BLAZE THE NIGHT<br>CHAPTER THREE  
>TREASURE HUNT<br>**

_"When daylight's fading, we're gonna play in the dark 'til it's golden again. And now it feels so amazing, can see you coming, and we'll never grow old again. You'll find us chasing the sun."_

Indian Treasure certainly lived up to its name. Outside, the building was a dusty, sandy structure reminiscent of ancient Pueblo-style houses. Inside, a tribal energy permeated every nook and cranny of the nightclub. Adventure and mystery floated through the air like smoke signals, touching those who danced and drank and influencing their every action. When one stepped inside Indian Treasure, he could very easily become the strong and fearless brave, stalking the night for his prey. Or, perhaps, he could be the wise and noble chief, the center of all attention. Unfortunately, he could also became the pariah, guilty of some terrible social crime and exiled from all civilization. Yes, Indian Treasure was a place where dreams could come true...and nightmares, too.

As Carlos Garcia walked up the stairs and into the main room of the second floor, he felt the energy pumping through his blood. Saturday nights were his time to shine. All throughout the week, he had to put up with two good-for-nothing jobs, an eccentric father who had never grown up, and an angry little brother who was all too ready to grow up. They were all far from his mind on Saturday nights, though, because that was _his_ time. His music, his friends, his life.

He always wore his sharpest threads when he went out. Tonight, it was a pink polo, sky blue bootcut jeans, and a brand new pair of shoes. His clothes were inexpensive - a combination of Dollar General and Wal-Mart purchases - but he didn't really dress to impress anyone. It felt good to look good, though, and Carlos knew he looked good. All he needed was a few hours in an electric place like Indian Treasure, and he'd be good to go for another week of life's bullshit.

"Let me get a rum and Coke," he ordered when he took a seat at the bar. He was so thankful that the whole concept of "carding" was unheard of at Indian Treasure. He was only eighteen and fresh out of high school, but mentally, he was more than mature enough to hold his liquor.

While waiting for his drink, he scanned the dance floor. Everyone was free and alive. They danced, they drank, they laughed...they kissed, they hugged. Boys danced with boys. Boys danced with girls. Girls danced with other boys. The atmosphere was contagious, just the way Carlos liked it. As soon as his friends showed up, he'd be ready to let loose on the floor, where all of his cares would vanish into the night.

"Here you go, sweetie," the shirtless bartender said, pushing him his drink. Carlos paid him and slipped him a hefty tip, and just then, his phone started to vibrate in his pocket. He gave it a look and put it to his ear.

"Hey!" he greeted enthusiastically. "Where you guys at?"

"I'm at Taco Bell," his friend Casey honked. It was obvious he'd been crying. "I don't know where _Kenneth_ is, and I really don't give a damn. All I care about is my Mexican pizza."

Carlos rolled his eyes and shook his head. "What did you guys fight about this time?"

"He found out I was in a drag show last week."

"Casey, you know he doesn't like it when you dress up..."

"Well, that's his problem, not mine! If he can't stand the fact that his boyfriend looks good in a damn dress, then maybe we shouldn't be together. I told him that, too, and he packed his things and left."

Carlos took a long sip from his drink. Always something with those two. Always. And he hated when it would get in the way of his good time. "So both of you are just abandoning me tonight?"

"Carlitos, I wouldn't be able to dance even if I wanted to. I hate the fucker, but he knows how to put a damper on my mood. I'm sure you'll have fun without us."

Carlos decided that he wasn't even gonna argue. Even if he could convince Casey to come out, he would have just ended up listening as he cried and cried some more about his "straight-acting" boyfriend. Honestly, spending the night alone would have been better than that.

"All right. Whatever. I hope you guys work it out." He hung up the phone before Casey could throw more insults at Kenneth.

Carlos took another sip of his drink and exhaled. This night was not supposed to end before it began. He looked too good and was too ready to have fun for it to be over. The last thing he wanted to do was go home, but the club scene was ineffective if you were all alone. Sure, he probably would have gotten someone's attention, but he wasn't into the picking-up-and-hooking-up game.

Carlos turned back to the dance floor, trying to figure out what to do. Maybe if he ran into some of his other friends, he could tag along and party with them, but the more he looked for a familiar face, the less likely it seemed he would find one. He took one more sip from his drink and set it on the bar, suddenly not in the mood for alcohol anymore, and he was just about ready to throw in the towel and head on home when his eye was caught by a figure standing in the shadows on the other side of the club.

_Wait...is that-?_

It was 11:30, and James was over it. He'd humored Kerry and some of their other friends by drinking a few and dancing with them, but as he began to remember all the reasons why he hadn't been to Indian _Trash_ure in at least four months, he was just over it. First, the men all looked the same. Pieces of plastic that had been left out in the sun to tan too long, resulting in a burnt and melted look. Not cute, but they sure thought they were. Second, the men were all after the same thing. Oh, James would have bet that about 92% of the men on that dance floor had condoms in their pockets and planned to use them before the sun came up. Third...it was all just so freaking _boring_ to him. He was nineteen, but he'd been going out to places like this for three years, and he truly felt like he'd grown out of it.

Killing the mood wasn't his forte, though, and so he found a nice piece of wall to hold up. He'd let the others have their fun, and when they were all shit-faced and ready to make regretful decisions, he'd wrangle them up, and they'd head on out. Until then, though, he was stuck in a club he hated, busy thinking about a life that was getting increasingly stale.

_I'm going through my mid-life crisis, and I'm not even twenty. Guess this means I won't make it past forty. At least I'll die young._

As he checked his watch, though, he couldn't shake the vague feeling that he was being watched. Well, he could feel tons of eyes on him. Every time he came here, he could feel them all staring, all wanting a piece of him like they were vultures and he was a carcass on the pavement. But this time, there was something different...there was the slight feeling of familiarity...

_Holy shit, it's him!_

He found Carlos sitting at the bar, and as cliche as it sounds, their eyes met across the crowded room. James quickly fixed his posture and tried to look as cute as possible, but then he saw that Carlos was walking over to him, and he got even more self-conscious. _Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, oh my God..._ His head whipped around, trying to find someone he knew so that it didn't look like he was just standing there alone, but it was too late.

"So," Carlos began excitedly, "you _were_ checking me out behind those shades today."

James's eyebrows slowly went up. _Good lord, is he gay after all?_ "Hmm...maybe," he said, immediately defaulting into "tease" mode. He was known up and down the California coast for his ability to play hard-to-get. It was always the first thing he did when he liked a guy. "Why?"

"Well, I was definitely getting a good look at you," Carlos replied, his eyes concretely set on James's. He knew this game all too well, and he'd mastered the art of stopping teases dead in their tracks.

"Oh, really?" James asked, catching the unmistakable look of seduction in Carlos's eyes.

"Yeah, and I meant what I said. I want to keep you around. Let me buy you a drink."

James chuckled under his breath and absently licked his lips as he purposely ogled Carlos's body. "All right. I'm down with that."

"You down with that?" Carlos repeated in a hushed tone as he took James's hand in his.

"Yeah, I'm down with that."

Carlos led James through the crowd back to the bar, where they sat on neighboring stools. James watched as Carlos ordered the drinks, very amused by how easily the alleged drug dealer from Pomegranate Point blended in with the demented debauchery of Indian Treasure. It was just a little disorienting. Carlos, meanwhile, was totally in his element. He'd had a sneaking suspicion that the rich boy who'd visited him that day might be into some boy-on-boy fun. Now that he had an opportunity to see how far James would go, he was going to pull out all the stops. He knew how to get a guy's attention, and even if the fact that James was quite clearly a few dozen social classes above him was enough to give him a little pause, the scrappy boy from the bad neighborhood was determined.

"You're fuckin' with me, right?" James finally asked once the drinks were ordered and he was thinking straight (err...correctly?) again. "Like...you're here with some friends or something who made you come, right?"

"No," Carlos replied truthfully, shaking his head. "I come all on my own."

"Yeah, I bet you do," James mumbled, making Carlos crack a smile.

"Is it so hard for you to believe that a guy from the hood could be...into all this?"

"No, not really. I'm just trying to figure out what the odds were of us just happening to be in the same place at the same time."

"Oh, so now I'm a stalker?"

"No, that's not what I meant!"

But Carlos just shook it off and laughed. "You, my friend, need to loosen up."

The bartender returned with the drinks and handed them over after Carlos paid. "Here," he said, handing James his cup. "Drink up." James did as he was told, but he kept his suspicious eyes on the suave Latino.

The speakers began to blare one of the latest club singles, and the dance floor went absolutely bonkers. A feral beat marked time as the floor filled with warm bodies and a primal mania vibrated through every surface.

"Come on!" Carlos exclaimed, grabbing James's hand again and leading him unwillingly to the floor.

"Dude, wait!" James protested futilely as he clutched his drink. "I don't even know- I don't want to dance!"

"But you're gonna!"

And sure enough, James soon found himself in the thick of the action, with this mysterious boy beside him, and it was hard to keep from moving to the rhythm. Every time he looked at Carlos, he was met with twinkly brown eyes and an infectious smile, and all of his inhibitions started to fade away.

"Come on, stringbean," Carlos nudged, "shake that ass."

"Oh my God!" James gasped, shocked but amused by Carlos's request.

"Shake it!"

Their eyes met again, and James turned around, and even though he towered over his dance partner, he popped his butt out, slightly bent his knees, and started to reach for the ground, feeling Carlos's crotch grinding up behind him appropriately.

"Yeah, there you go!" Carlos called out to a laughing James. "Back it up, rich boy!"

"Do your friends in Pomegranate Point know this side of you?" James asked when he came back up and they were dancing face-to-face again.

"A lot of 'em have tried to get to know it, if you know what I mean."

"Hmm," James nodded.

"But I don't let just anybody in," he added, eying James intensely, "if you know what I mean."

"I can respect that," James acknowledged, and they continued to dance.

"Speaking of friends, where's, uh...you know who?" Carlos asked, looking around for the only slightly familiar face of the girl who'd crashed into his car the night before.

"Kerry?" James asked. "She's around here somewhere. Should I find her for you?" he asked with a glint of sarcasm in his eye.

"No," Carlos shook his head, smiling, "I'm good."

They danced and danced as the music climaxed, and by the time the song was over, many of the clubbers were pooped and ready for a break, albeit a very, very brief one, but for those who wanted to linger on the floor, a soft ballad began to play, soliciting lots of immature "whoo"'s from the patrons.

_Well, it was fun while it lasted_, James thought to himself as the people around them began to pair up on the dance floor. He figured that he and Carlos had spent as much time together as they were meant to, and he was prepared to go back to his group of melodramatic friends, but Carlos had other plans. He took both of James's hands and gave him an earnest invitational nod. _I'm not done with you yet, rich boy. _James started to giggle, thinking for sure that Carlos was joking, but when he saw the look in his eye, he knew this was not the case, and the space between the two of them got smaller and smaller until they were dancing body-to-body in a small, slow circle.

_I'm slow-dancing with a guy from the hood who Kerry and I got into a car crash with last night. What is my life...what are my choices?_

* * *

><p>"That was...um...it was nice," James said.<p>

"I think so, too."

Carlos and James sat at a table in the corner of the club after the music had revved back up and the dance floor was once again jumping.

"I had no intentions of dancing at all tonight," James exhaled, feeling his muscles tightening and absently wondering if he was getting too old for this shit.

"Really?" Carlos asked, downing the rest of his third drink of the night. "What's the point of coming out to a place like this if you're just gonna stand around in the shadows?"

"It wasn't my choice to come, I promise you," James explained. "Kerry and some of our other friends forced me out here. If it was up to me, I'd be in bed with a bowl of ice cream and Netflix." _God, my life sounds boring as fuck._

"That actually sounds like a good night," Carlos said, nodding. "Maybe some time soon, I can join you for that ice cream and Netflix."

"Maybe," James agreed, letting his eyes linger on Carlos's. He smiled despite himself, but he really couldn't think of any good reason why he shouldn't allow himself to be attracted to this guy. Carlos obviously seemed to be attracted to him, and he was also being extremely charming. It was the type of thing that James had always gone for, but it was also the type of thing that had always led to heartbreak.

"What's your gripe with this place anyway?" Carlos asked, strategically trying to get into James's mind.

"Oh, there's no gripe," James answered defensively. "It's just...I don't know...there's nothing new here. It's the same people, same drinks, same songs, same everything."

"I'm new," Carlos reminded him. "I'm not the same, am I?"

James could see that the little fucker was trying hard, and he rewarded him. "No, you're definitely different."

"Good." Carlos knew deep down that he'd never stand a chance against some of the more desirable men in the club, but for as long as he could be something new and different, he knew he would have James all to himself.

"It's such a good night," he commented, delighted with the atmosphere of the club.

"Yeah," James said, "people are really having a good time."

"Yeah, well, I sorta meant that it's a good night because I found you," Carlos clarified. Before James could turn to him and properly respond to the comment, though, Carlos licked his lips and leaned in, bringing his mouth to the soft skin of James's left cheek. He gently pressed his mouth onto the cheek and sucked it ever so slightly, and James could feel his breath stifling.

"I'm sorry," Carlos said once James didn't turn to make the cheek kiss a mouth-to-mouth one.

"No," James stopped him, putting a hand on Carlos's thigh under the table. "It's all right. I just wasn't...I guess I wasn't expecting it." Carlos looked at him and saw that James was being sincere. The sudden rush of nervousness that he'd felt was subsiding, and he flashed his million-dollar smile again.

"To be completely honest," James continued, "I wasn't expecting any of this tonight. At all."

"Heh," Carlos let out. "Well, you know what they say. Expect the unexpected, right?"

"Heh, yeah."

They slowly looked at each other again, and as their faces got closer, Carlos could feel James's hand shaking. "Come on, this isn't your first time kissing a boy, is it?"

"No," James said. "I'm just-"

But Carlos bridged the gap before he could complete his thought, and they were kissing. It wasn't a passionate, tender love fest where tongues were dancing and intermingling, but it was beautiful for what it was - a quick peck between two young men who were enjoying each other's company for the very first time.

"There," Carlos said with a tone of certainty. "It happened."

"Yes, it did," James replied, his nose wrinkling at the taste of Carlos's rum-flavored lips.

They sat looking at each other, the music filling them both with adventure.

"Come on, let's dance again," Carlos suggested, and he took James's hand.

* * *

><p>Outside Indian Treasure, there was no shortage of the truly drunk and the pretending-to-be-drunk as they stumbled along the sidewalk and craved attention. They fell back against the building, they fell down in the street, and they tried to keep themselves together every time a cop passed by so as not to be hauled in for public intoxication. Amongst all this, though, James and Carlos walked out of the club and found a nice quiet spot down the way to hang out. They were only slightly buzzed.<p>

"You're a fucking dancer," James teased, giving Carlos a playful shove. "You like to fucking dance."

"Oh, don't act like you wasn't watching me dance, rich boy!" Carlos started dancing on the sidewalk, twisting his hips and pushing his butt up against James's legs. James laughed and pushed him off, but he could feel a little stir in his pants.

"All right, all right, you're right. I was watching you," James admitted. "But only because you are absolutely crazy!"

"Oh whatever! I think you like crazy," Carlos said, and he pinned James up against the wall. "Don't think just because you're taller than me that I can't have my way with you."

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really."

Carlos stood on his tiptoes and dropped a messy kiss on James's lips, but this time, James pulled him closer and kissed him back.

"Yeah, you like crazy," Carlos whispered.

They sat on the curb, and Carlos pulled out a cigarette and lighter, immediately raising James's caution. He couldn't deal with smokers...he never could and probably never would. But for tonight, he'd make a tiny exception. Just for tonight. _It won't last any longer than that, anyway, right?_

"So," Carlos began, "you know that I live in Pomegranate Point, but you haven't told me where you live. Or is that confidential information?"

"I live up in Elizabeth Valley," James replied, a slight tone of pride in his voice upon mentioning one of the city's most opulent neighborhoods.

"Oh wow!" Carlos marveled. "You really _are_ a rich boy! Look at you!"

"Please, I'm rich in finances only. It doesn't define who I am, just like I'm sure where you're from doesn't define you."

"Heh. I don't think it does, but tell that to other people. Hell, tell that to your friend."

In his buzzed state, James had to think for a second about what Carlos meant. "Oh!" he exclaimed when he caught on. "Look, Kerry's...she's stupid, okay? I like her, she's my best friend, but she's got a lot of fucked up things about her."

"Yeah, she goes around crashing into people's cars and then blames them for it. Why are you guys friends anyway?"

"I don't know...because we went to high school together...and middle school...and elementary school. She's just always been there, I guess."

Carlos nodded. "Where'd you go to high school?"

"St. Germaine Prep."

"_Jesus_! But I guess I shouldn't be surprised."

"What's wrong with St. Germaine Prep?" James needled, tickling Carlos's underarm. "I know it's not the prestigious educational institution that Pomegranate Point High is, but-"

"Hey! Hey now! Two things. First, you use really big words when you're drunk...or have been drinking. And second, no talkin' shit about PP High!"

"PP High! Did you take tests in how to piss?"

"No, we just had to take a lot of piss tests, if you know what I mean!"

They both giggled at their juvenile humor, but their loose body movements brought them closer, and Carlos tossed his cigarette and stepped on it.

"You're really the first person I've ever met from that type of neighborhood," James said. "Well, except for Delores, our maid."

"Of course, you have a maid."

"Well..."

"Does it excite you to talk to a boy from the hood?" Carlos asked in a whisper, and he put his arm around James's shoulders and brought him in closer. "Does it make you feel dangerous?"

"I don't know," James said. "Should it?" He could smell the cigarette on Carlos's breath and it turned him off so much, but still...there was something drawing him in. They got closer and closer until they were going in for another kiss, but this time, they were interrupted by a loud, screeching voice.

"HEY, THERE HE IS. JAMES, WE'RE READY TO GO TO THE NEXT FUCKING CLUB! STOP BEING A STREET WHORE AND DRIVE US SOMEWHERE!"

It was Kerry, drunk off her ass and more obnoxious than ever. She was with two other girls and three guys; collectively, they were James's normal group of friends, though normal was not the best descriptive for them. All filthy rich, all borderline alcoholics, and all positively fucked up in the head.

James immediately pulled away from Carlos, who turned to face the motley crew as they stood on the sidewalk. "Guys, go wait in the car," James said, standing and pointing his keyless entry remote to an SUV parked a very short distance down the street.

"No, we're ready to go NOW!" one of the guys, Shawn, said, as he pawed on Carlos. "And bring your sexy little friend with you."

James started to feel second-hand embarrassment as his friends descended on Carlos, and he hoped to God Kerry wouldn't recognize him, but it was too late.

"Hey, wait a minute! I know who this guy is!" she exclaimed, squatting down in his face. "It's that drug dealer I was telling you guys about! He's the one who fucked up my car!"

"You fucked up _my_ car!" Carlos quickly corrected as he got to his feet, but his words didn't mean anything to anyone.

"James, you are doing _so_ much, making out with the hood rat drug dealer who fucked up my car," Kerry hissed. "Of all the hot guys here, why are you wasting time with him? It looks like he's wearing the latest in dollar store fashion, for goodness' sake. Ditch his Mexican ass and bring us to Arabian Knights. We want to view sexy boys in turbans."

"I'm Venezuelan, you cunt," Carlos hissed right back at her.

"Oh HELLLLL no," Shawn spat, and he rolled up his sleeves, ready to fight, but James pushed him back.

"All of you need to shut the fuck up and go sit down in the car right now before I leave you bitches in the middle of nowhere and make you walk home," he commanded. "Now go!"

They walked away with their heads hung low, feeling like kids who were just reprimanded by their parents. Once they were gone, James was full of apologies.

"I'm so, so sorry about all of that," he said, hoping Carlos wasn't turned off. "I have to talk to them like that or they won't listen."

"No, it's cool. I understand," Carlos said, but a little bit of him was hurt by Kerry's belittling of him. "You have to go, I understand," he said.

"I don't have to. I mean, I don't want to," James said. "I can lock them in the car, and we can forget they even exist."

"No, that wouldn't be fair, would it? Besides, I'm really out later than I should be. I have work early in the morning, so I should be going. Look...um...how about we exchange phone numbers, and we can keep in touch?"

James started to nod. "Okay. Let's do that."

They quickly told each other their phone numbers and keyed them into their phones.

"I really had a great time with you tonight," James said to Carlos, but Carlos just nodded and smiled.

"I had fun, too. Um...I think your friends are waiting."

He gave one final nod and then turned and walked away.

As James walked to his car, he didn't know what to think. Did his so-called friends ruin a chance for him? Or had there been no chance at all? What exactly was this the beginning of? Would he even see this guy again? Hell, he hadn't imagined he'd see him again when he'd saw him earlier that day, so the odds weren't so bad that they'd come across each other again. But, as he got into the driver's seat and once again yelled at his group to shut up, he hoped and prayed to a God he didn't even believe in that this wasn't over.

* * *

><p><strong>NOTE:<strong> As you can see, this is moving quickly, but don't think it's gonna be easy for these two! Obstacles are already rearing their ugly heads, and they'll soon become more prominent. Keep reading!


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